


Protege

by ShatteredSwallowtail



Series: Taming Dragons [17]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredSwallowtail/pseuds/ShatteredSwallowtail
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Taming Dragons [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733218
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Protege

He had sworn a promise to his husband to look after Yasha, and while Estinien had every intention of doing just that, he wouldn’t deny to himself that he was entirely out of his element when it came to caring for a small child. He had remained where he was, seated at Aymeric’s bedside with his husband’s hand in his while the girl slept on his lap for so long he forgot the time. Just watching every slow, even rise of Aymeric’s chest until logic and the physical needs of both his own body and the child had forced him to vacate his new temporary home. He’d promised… and somehow he didn’t think that Aymeric would consider sleeping on Estinien’s lap for days on end to qualify as ‘caring for her’. But… what did children even need? Obviously something to sleep on, and food… but while he felt rather confident that he could gather supplies for a short time, there was no telling how long the Xaela girl would be in his charge.

Ultimately, Estinien surrendered some measure of his pride and sought out Francel in the Firmament. Yasha wrapped up in a makeshift sling he had fashioned to carry her on his back and allow her to sleep, he tracked down the blonde and informed him rather haltingly that he would be looking after her for the time being and were there any specific belongings that she possessed of which he should be aware. And thank the twelve that Francel was intuitive enough to understand how lost the taller Elezen was as he helpfully provided a satchel of clothing and necessities along with a list of things that Estinien should consider purchasing as well as where they could be found. And while he otherwise might have scoffed at the inclusion of a book on child-rearing...he was silently grateful not only for the younger man’s tact but also his understanding.

Yasha had been awake again by the time they arrived at the house he had built for himself and Aymeric and after some degree of internal debate he had set her up in one of the guestrooms. So far, she had remained mostly silent and some portion of him was grateful that she didn’t seem to be the sort of child who asked a dozen irritatingly pointless questions. Though her habit of constantly watching every move he made was a bit unnerving. Not because the observant habit wasn’t a good one; it was. But because he was so used to slipping into and out of the shadows and being the subject of such a pointed gaze was enough to have him constantly on his guard. One instance of almost snapping at her to stop staring at him was enough to have her burying her face in a pillow and him feeling like the lowest kind of wretch, and after having to coax her to look at him again so he could _apologize_ \- something he only ever did for Aymeric - it was easier to simply put up with the constant prickle at the back of his neck as he searched for something to occupy her while he went _shopping_.

He’d thanked the twelve for his husband’s near packrat-like tendencies when he had unearthed a small wooden box containing a collection of coloured paints and pencils. Children liked painting, didn’t they? She was too young to read, he had reasoned, and hopefully the paints would keep her occupied until he could return to ensure that she wasn’t destroying their house. While Yasha sat in the middle of the bed and watched, he set out the paints and a stack of papers filched from Aymeric’s desk. Stepping back to study his handiwork before reaching into a pocket and setting a wrapped piece of jerky beside it. Children needed to eat, after all. Now if he could only get her to call him something other then ‘papa’.  
Internal musings interrupted by the creak of the door, he turned his head to watch the hated cat nudge his way into the room, immediately tensing as the hellspawned feline cast baleful eyes on him and hissed as it always did. Snowball - which was a ridiculous name for a cat in his opinion - had hated him from the first moment the two of them had locked eyes and despite Aymeric’s assertions to the contrary...he was certain the thing was a voidsent fiend in disguise. Especially because no matter how old it got, it refused to die. As the cat skulked into the room, it caught Yasha’s attention and the child let out a delighted cry of ‘kitty!’ before scrambling off of the bed and making a beeline for the hissing animal. Completely ignoring his warning to keep her distance - as well as Snowball’s litany of growls and hisses - as she grabbed the cat and hoisted him up off of the floor.

Fully prepared for what was to follow - blood, tears, inhuman screams from the cat - Estinien’s jaw had dropped when the growling eased off and the hellish feline seemed to grudgingly accept her attentions as the freakishly fearless child plopped down on the floor with him in her lap and began stroking his white fur. It was official… the cat just hated _him_ in particular, despite how many times his husband had argued to the contrary, and he resolved to smugly impart this new knowledge to Aymeric at a later time. With Yasha seemingly occupied, he gave her a few gruff instructions to stay here and play with the cat or the paints but nothing else before he slipped out of the house to collect the things that Francel had listed for him. She’d be fine for a couple of hours. And he could visit Aymeric again.

When he returned, Estinien was relieved to find the house both intact and free from fire and other child-caused catastrophes. At least on the outside, and he held his breath slightly as he pushed open the door to find the interior in the same state in which he had left it. Or… close to the same way he had left it. Upon closer inspection, one of the fireplace pokers was missing, and a few things were out of place. Estinien set down his parcels and made his way to the guest room only to find it empty save for a dozen or so painted drawings littering the floor. Oh hells, where was she now? His sharp gaze noticed a few small splatters of blue and green paint on the floor, leading to a partial handprint on the doorframe and he groaned as his mind immediately began picturing all of the places in the house she might have painted instead of the paper he had provided her.

Following the trail that was now incredibly obvious, he sucked in a slow breath to quell his ire as it led him directly to the bedroom he and Aymeric shared. Where she wasn’t supposed to be, especially not with paint all over her. Pushing open the door, he stopped and stared in a mix of exasperation and confusion at the sight that greeted his ruby gaze; more drawings littered the floor, and standing over them was the mess’ culprit. Fire poker grasped in her small paint-covered hands almost as though it were some manner of lance. His helm - he’d have to polish the paint off of it - wobbling on her shoulders as she stabbed the point of the poker at a drawing of what looked like a red wyvern on the floor. That made...even less sense to him than much of anything he could come up with at the moment and Estinien cleared his throat to get her attention. Yasha spun around and stumbled onto her rear as his helm fell off her shoulders and rolled across the floor where a paint-spattered white paw darted out from under the bed to claw at it. Oh. She’d painted the damned cat too, well the hellspawn could stay painted until Aymeric was healed because no way in the twelves was he doing anything about it.

Holding her gaze for a long moment, he waited for her to offer some explanation or apology - pointless, he would remind himself later. She was a toddler, they were seldom rational or wont to take responsibility for things. Finally breaking the silence, he heaved a sigh and turned his attention towards the drawing she seemed intent on stabbing. “I thought you liked dragons.”

Yasha looked back at her drawing before shaking her head and he noted with another sigh that she had paint in her hair too. “Not a dragon.” That made no sense, as he stepped over to pick up the drawing and study it closer. He wouldn’t consider himself any sort of artist, but it was most definitely a dragon. A wyvern, at least that’s what it appeared to be. Red, with wings and a tail and a pointed head with comically large teeth. “Yes it is.”

Estinien usually dealt as little with children as was possible, and thus he had to quash the flare of irritation when his correction was met with a stubborn flash of blue eyes and that Aymeric-worthy pout as she stomped her foot and tugged the paper out of his hand to replace it on the floor and stomp on it instead. “NO! Not a dragon.”

“Even allowing for your rather middling art skills, that is clearly a dragon.” He retorted as she continued to stamp the offending drawing into the ground. There was doubtless a headache coming as she let out an angry, frustrated squeal of denial and stamped both of her feet at him. “No! _Not_ a dragon! Rathlos!”

Rathlos… the word rang a bell and Estinien frowned as he tried to remember where he had heard it before. “You mean… Rathalos? That’s what it’s supposed to be?” Her nod was a relief as at least she wasn’t about to throw a tantrum anymore and instead picked up the poker again to mime spearing the Rathalos in her drawing. Estinien furrowed his brow as he again picked through his memories, a light going on as he made the connection. Rathalos… he’d heard of it on his travels. An incredibly aggressive sort of wyvern that had been sighted recently on the steppe. Passing through Reunion, he’d overheard someone attempting to gather a party to hunt the thing and had scoffed inwardly. Where there was one dragon there was likely more and not one of the people discussing this ill-conceived plan seemed able to handle something so small as an aevis. Much less what they were describing this Rathalos as. Which only made her behaviour all the more confusing, and he heaved another sigh as he lowered himself to sit on the floor beside her with a frown.

“You do realize this Rathalos is a kind of dragon…?” The look she gave him had him conceding victory to her if only to avoid an upheaval of the tantrum he had narrowly avoided and Estinien raised his hands in surrender before trying another angle. “You like other dragons. Why do you want to stab this Rathalos?” Using logic on a toddler most likely wouldn’t get him anywhere but at least he could perhaps figure out why she was so determined to stab a hole right through her drawing. His heart nearly stopped in his chest as her lower lip quivered for a moment before she squeezed her eyes shut and stabbed the drawing even harder. “Rathalos burned Mama and Papa….”

Though he had been more than twice her age when it had happened, her words brought Ferndale slamming back into his mind and Estinien swallowed hard as he felt an unexpected rush of sympathy for the little girl as she vainly tried to kill a drawing of the monster that had robbed her of her family. Of her own Nidhogg… He should say something to her, offer some words of comfort...but what? Comfort was Aymeric’s forte, not his, and the only thing he could think of at the moment was the realization that she’d been trying to imitate _him_....the poker as a lance, wearing his helm as she attacked her own nightmares.

Estinien swallowed hard as he reached to gently take the poker from her, his other hand gripping her small shoulder to turn her to face him. Comfort he didn’t know how to offer, but he could offer other things. “You want to kill this Rathalos....is that it?” His own voice sounded almost hollow in his ears as he watched her nod in answer to his question and it was terrifying to think of the position he was about to put himself into. To think of being the teacher, being the mentor and guide… allowing the child to place her trust in him in such a way. But it was too much, too similar, and even without the promise he had made to Aymeric...he would be damned if he stood by and watched Yasha turn into what he himself had once been. Consumed by rage and hatred with nothing in her life but revenge. Offering up a silent prayer to the twelve to help him in this idiocy he was about to consign himself to, Estinien swallowed again before he spoke in reply. Carefully taking her tiny hands and positioning them on the poker in the same way his foster father had once shown him how to hold a lance.

“Hold it like this… First you learn how to hold it properly… and when you are older, I will teach you to use the real thing.”

He would have thought her too young to understand the gravity of what he was promising, but Yasha’s blue eyes stayed focused on her own hands as he guided her through a basic thrust with the poker and she simply nodded before imitating it on her own. Letting out the breath he had been holding, Estinien felt some of the tension leave him as he watched her try it a few more times before taking the poker from her and scooping her up in his other arm. “Tomorrow I will get you a proper practice one but for now you need to clean up the mess you made with the paint. Then you need a bath.”

Notes:

That’s right, Estinien, you’ll do fine. XD

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